


Tunnel Vision in the Ring

by ChibiTabatha



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Boxing & Fisticuffs, Childhood Stories, Gen, Stan's a good Bro, Stanuary
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-26
Updated: 2018-01-26
Packaged: 2019-03-09 13:09:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13482147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChibiTabatha/pseuds/ChibiTabatha
Summary: Going through a bunch of old junk the young twins find some of Stan's boxing prizes. With a little bit of prompting from Ford he tells them of a match he won.





	Tunnel Vision in the Ring

**Author's Note:**

> This just got away from me. I was gonna do something small, then I looked up boxing, then I checked the word count, then I was like, "Well That Happened?" I do hope you guys like this and I hope you enjoy it!

“Grunkle Stan, what’s this belt from?” the soft sound of his niece's voice reached his ears.   
  
“Oh that? That’s nothin’ important, just put it back in the box pumpkin,” his gruff reply, his eyes lingering on the old boxer’s belt.   
  
Soft rummaging, “What about this Great Uncle Stan?” his nephew’s voice sounded from the other side of the room.   
  
He eyed the trophy in the kid’s hands, “Also nothin’, back in the box kid.”   
  
“You still have those Stanley?” his brother’s voice called from the doorway.   
  
“Technically they’re yours now Sixer,” he motioned to the boxes. “It’s all stuff Ma and Pa sent you, guess they forgot which one of us is which.”   
  
Stanford rolled his eyes stepping into the room, “You know what these are Great Uncle Ford?” their nephew held up the trophy.   
  
Mabel held the belt over her head with both hands, “That means these are Grunkle Stan’s! Story! Story! Story!” her brother joined in on the chant.   
  
“There’s nothing to say about them,” Stan grabbed the belt from Mabel and the trophy from Dipper.   
  
“Sure there is, your uncle was very amazing when he won those,” Ford chuckled looking into an open box.   
  
“Ford can you not,” he pinched the bridge of his nose.   
  
“I want to hear about Grunkle Stan’s adventures!”   
  
“Yeah, I’m sure it can’t be that bad, tell us Great Uncle Ford.”   
  
The six-fingered man shuffles through the box a little more pulling out a few photos. Smiling fondly at them he held them out to the younger twins. “In the first photo you can see the first time your Uncle won a boxing championship, I believe we were 10 at the time,” the image he motioned to had a picture of the two men as young boys, Stan’s face was bruised and bloodied but he was smiling happily. Young Ford had his arm under his brother’s supporting his weight, smiling proudly. “In the second image we were probably 14,” there was no sign of the belt, but there was a third person in the image with the older twins. Stan was beaten and bloodied, not nearly as badly as the third guy. The blonde guy had a split lip, both eyes swelling, firm scowl painted red with blood. Ford looked absolutely ecstatic, a small butterfly bandage on the bridge of his nose, but he was in regular clothes, arm slung over Stan’s shoulder. “The last picture we were 17, Stan won the state-wide championship. I was very proud of him,” Ford’s smile was soft looking at the last image. Stan was holding the belt above his head, his chest bruised, his face bruised but smiling proudly. Ford had his hand on Stan’s shoulder, beaming at his triumphant twin.   
  
The two younger twins looked at each other than at the photos, “Tell us about the fights!”   
  
“No way kiddos,” Stan took the photos and dumped them into the box with the trophy and belt.   
  
The kids whined, “C’mon…”   
  
“I’ll tell them if you don’t Stanley,” Ford crossed his arms and leveled Stan with a look.   
  
“They’re not that impressive Sixer.”   
  
“You won a state-wide championship.”   
  
“Coulda been anyone.”   
  
“Alright, so when we were 10-”   
  
“FINE!” Stan cut his brother off. “I’m only telling them about the time I creamed Crampelter though.”   
  
“Fair enough, that was my favorite anyways,” Ford took a seat on the floor with the younger twins. The two scooted closer to him as Stan cleared his throat and sat on a box.   
  
“Alright, so my nerdy bro here, he got into a scuffle with our long time bully Crampelter. Comes home with a bloody nose and broken glasses. I was furious,” Stan took a deep breath letting it out slowly. “As soon as I heard Crampelter was going to be in the next boxing tournament I practiced twice as hard. I never won a fight against him, he never tried to pick a fight with me after we started high school. But I wanted to pummel him. No one harasses my bro except me.”  
  
At that Ford chuckled, “Your Uncle spent lots of time at the gym. Ma started complaining about his gym clothes, saying they were stinking the whole town up.” The younger twins giggled at the new information offered to them.  
  
“Ford's right. I spent all the time at the gym and my boxing coach told me if I don't take a break I was likely to hurt myself. Apparently there is such a thing as too much working out.”  
  
“As for me I had offered up some tutoring lessons to help pay for a new pair of glasses. So I spent quite a bit of time out and about teaching unruly children math and science,” Ford’s brows furrowed at the memory.  
  
“Finally, the day of the tournament arrives. I didn’t care about all the other schmucks around, I only cared about beating one guy down. Crampelter,” Stan’s face took on a determined far away look. Shaking his head slightly, he continued, “The first couple guys got beat down hard. I hardly ‘member fightin’ them. Only kept my eyes on the prize.”  
  
“Your uncle hadn’t been resting appropriately, I could see him staggering on his feet a little. Of course when I pointed it out to him, he brushed it off.”  
  
Stan tugged at the collar of his shirt a little bit, “So I’d been hitting the gym harder than usual. Losing sleep. It was all going to be worth to wipe the floor with Crampelter.” His brown eyes seemed to glaze over and he got a far off look in his eyes, “Finally I got into the ring with Crampelter. The noise around me seemed to melt into nothin’ and I wound up with some intense tunnel vision. Worse than before. The bell signalling the round to start echoed so loudly I could hear it ringing for forever. I wanted to just charge him, beat the crap out of him, but I knew I had to be smarter than that.”  
  
“Stanley has always been a slugger, so when he didn't immediately head in swinging I was shocked. Usually he overpowered any and all opponents. Sluggers typically rely on the power of their punches, their ability to take the hits. It's part of the reason your Uncle is so burly.”  
  
“Needed to see Crampelter’s style. I doubted he could swarm in, but couldn't be too careful. I wanted to beat him down hard.”  
  
“Maybe it's because I'm young, but I don't understand Grunkle Stan,” Mabel ran her hands through her hair. Dipper looked equally confused.  
  
“If you wanna learn about boxing, I'll tell you about it later,” Stan waved them off. “So I throw out a jab,” his hands come up into a fighting position and his left hand shoots straight out, “try to figure out what kinda style he’s got. ‘Course the guy blocks it, but I also notice he takes a step back. I realize that I might be out-matched, but I’m not one to go down without givin’ ‘im a fight.” This time his right hand came down and then up, a perfect uppercut, “I get him right in gut this time. He staggers only for a moment, before landing a good one-two to my jaw. I shake it off, throw a left hook that he blocks, a straight. I toss out another jab that I step into, give it a little more oomph. The guy tries his best to block me but I manage to get through. He throws a hook that’s aimed lower. Into my chest. The next couple of hits get me in the ribs and it’s got my breathin’ off. Gets me off-kilter. I swing a hook and manage to nail him in the jaw pretty hard and then the bell rings.”  
  
“Thank god it did, your uncle started wavering a bit too much with his last hit. I was worried he had exhausted himself too much,” Ford shifted letting Mabel crawl into his lap and hold one of his hands in her smaller ones.  
  
Stan shoots his brother a soft smile, “My bro is waiting in the corner with some water for me and a towel and I drink some and splash some on my face. It helps wake me up a bit. The coach is telling me to watch out, that if I’m not careful he’ll knock me out. I don’ hear a word of it. I’m too focused on Crampelter across the way.” Pushing his glasses up, “Time’s up, we go back to the center and the bell rings again. This time no hesitation, I start with a straight to the chest, then a hook to the jaw. Crampelter manages to block the hook but not the straight. He staggers back and gets me in the chest with his own straight. By now our chests are starting to bruise, but we’re still throwing and blocking punches. The second bell rings and I stagger over to my corner again. Coach is saying something about protecting my jaw and chin and I gotta be careful. ‘Stanley Pines, if you let this guy beat you down I will run you into the ground.’ After he said that and we’re back at it again I just go for it. I throw caution to the wind and I just gun it. My straight connects dead on with his face, then I manage to hit him with a hook. Finally I get an uppercut right to his chin. Time slowed way down in that moment as I watch Crampelter crumple to the ground. I hear the ref counting down like I’m 10-feet underwater. All of a sudden my arm is being held in the air and I’m just dazed. I won. I won! Stanford here jostles me around and is hollering about something in my ears. I remember Ford h’re managing to get a picture of us with Crampelter pouting in the background.”  
  
“Almost as soon as the coach was done taking the picture Stan hit the deck,” Ford sighed and squeezed Mabel’s hands gently. Shifting his gaze between the younger twins, “He pushed himself so hard to beat Crampelter that as soon as he won, he passed out from exhaustion.”   
  
“I coulda probably won the whole thing. But beatin’ Crampelter was good enough for me,” Stan’s puffed his chest out.  
  
“Great work Grunkle Stan!” Mabel crawled out of Ford’s lap and ran over to give Stan a hug.   
  
Dipper stood and brushed himself off, “Yeah, that’s real cool what you did for Great Uncle Ford. Did Crampelter leave you guys alone after that?”   
  
“‘Course not. He’d have to be real dumb to pick a fight with me after that,” Stan ruffled the young girl’s hair and smiled at his nephew. “Do the same for you kids if I had to.”  
  
“You already did! You punched a pterodactyl remember?” Mabel giggled.  
  
“Right, I meant I would do it again.”  
  
“That’s cool Grunkle Stan, we’d do the same for you,” Dipper gently tried to hit the fez off Stan’s head.  
  
“Don’t get smart with me mister. Break time’s over, back to looking through this junk. You wanna help Sixer?” Stan stood and adjusted the fez back properly before shooing the kids off.  
  
“If it means we get to talk about when we were young I’m all in,” Ford punched his brother in the arm lightly with a chuckle.


End file.
